Kismet
by Flipspring
Summary: It is dawn on this planet when he comes for me. A silver coin falls thrice. /Mindfang/heart/Summoner/


**Note**: This is sidestory/backstory for my longer fic: Heaven's Forge. But it can easily stand alone. So if you aren't following HF, don't worry about being out of the loop or anything. You can think of this as exposition on the Mindfang's death prophecy. The bit in italics at the beginning is almost verbatim from Homestuck itself.  
**Summary**: It is dawn on this planet when he comes for me. A silver coin falls thrice.  
**Characters**: Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, The Summoner. Expatri8 mentioned.  
**Warnings**: Death, Mindfang

_I own nothing of Homestuck and I am not making any money from this._

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_The oracle I will resolve to part with. I will conceal it in a crypt 8earing the sym8ol of the scorpio, with a map to its loc8tion hidden in this journal. To whomever finds it, 8e wary, for the truth it tells may leave its new keeper 8lind as I was. Though no more._

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It is dawn on this planet when he comes for me.

The meek fire of this world's young sun is still enough to seed his wings in 8reathtaking spears of light as he flutters down from the 8attered ship hanging loosely in the sky, a long 8lack lance held firmly in one hand. I leave the dark shelter of the cave and signal to him with successive 8lasts of my gun, and he dodges each sluggish flare with all the nim8leness of a sprite.

His feet land qui8ly on the stone, lance held aloft, and to his credit there is not a trem8le at the tip.

"Please," I say, with the soft kind of smile that was once enough to melt his fiery heart, "Come inside."

A silver coin turns through the air, flashing light and dark as I casually turn my 8ack to him, and the toss could 8e unfavora8le, I would not know. I have not asked the or8 many questions as of l8. And a life's wager has no thrill if one knows the outcome.

The coin falls, and he steps after me to follow, lance still aloft, 8ut I am not yet speared.

We settle down deep within the caverns, and the slow 8reathing of the volcano around us vi8rates sleepily through the walls and ceiling. I make a hot her8 and water drink and pour us each a small cupful. He does not drink until I take the first sip. 8eautiful eyes wary, he gazes at my face as I sip, swallow, and sigh. The wings at his 8ack flicker for a moment 8efore he 8rings the cup to his mouth.

"Summoner," I say, "I have w8ed centuries for this day to come."

His fingers twitch for the lance at his side, 8ut all he does is put down the cup. Turns his gaze to the teapot sitting fatly 8etween us. Thick lashes shade his eyes.

"Marquise," he says, and for the longest seconds I think he is a8out to say more, 8ut he doesn't and instead reaches for the lance. I take another slow sip of scalding tea, peering over the cup and into his eyes as he raises it and holds it at the ready.

Another silver coin glimmers in the vapor of the her8al 8rew, flickering like a frozen star.

We are silent.

The coin falls, and he puts down the lance once more and fists one hand over his eyes, attractively sharp fangs 8iting into a lip, making it 8leed. A 8ead of deep um8er drips down his chin.

"Do not 8e distressed," I say, to comfort him, "I do not deserve it."

I get to my feet and walk around the cave, putting everything in order, give him time to gather his thoughts. I tuck the oracle away safely into its niche in the stone wall for the last time, and 8ring my journal 8ack to where he sits. He does not react when I kneel 8eside him and slip it into his lap.

"If you can," I say, "Have this delivered 8ack to Alternia."

He picks it up, turns it over in his arms, and glances at me from the corner of his eyes, distrustful and suspicious.

"For my Descendant. Taking it to the Expatri8 is all I ask. He'll deal with the rest. Owes me a favor, you know how it is. He can hardly turn down my last, and neither can you."

I grin, "You'll 8e the first to ever have me in your de8t."

He puts the 8ook away. Reaches up, hesitantly strokes my hair and, gaining nerve, rests his forehead against mine.

"You are the greatest liar and most manipulative wretch I've ever had the misfortune to meet," he whispers, "You've crossed, double-crossed, and triple-crossed everyone who ever crossed your path. Your actions have cost thousands of lives and destroyed our slimmest prospects of freedom."

"I was never cut out to 8e a heroine," I say, "Unfortun8."

His 8reath catches on the next words. "I pity you, Serket."

I smile. "I know."

The coin tum8les in our minds. I can see it flash and flicker behind his eyes. It 8egins its descent into our hearts. I can see it trem8le behind his lips.

I brush it with a soft kiss of the mind.

The coin lands.


End file.
